


Silent Explosion Of Love

by sandean_cas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Castiel Has a Crush on Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Castiel's First Kiss (Supernatural), Castiel's Tan Trenchcoat (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean Winchester Says "I Love You", Dean Winchester Wears Castiel's Trenchcoat, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Drunk Castiel (Supernatural), Fireworks, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Love Confessions, M/M, Meddling Sam Winchester, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss, New Year's Resolutions, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:35:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22069396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandean_cas/pseuds/sandean_cas
Summary: It’s surreal, like a dream. A perfect moment set adrift in a sea of sounds and light. All his senses are thoroughly engaged. Touch and taste most of all. The feel of Dean pressed against him and the taste of freedom. To be who he wants to be, not who Dean needs, to push his desires to the forefront. It feels liberating.It feels like flying.It’s a reason for falling.He pushes his lips into Dean’s. Kissing him just as passionately, letting every moment last; this is a once in a lifetime occurrence. He let’s every bit of pent up longing and love flow through their connection.All of a sudden, Dean rips his mouth away, his hair in disarray and his lips red and puffy. And it’s like time speeds up again as Dean grips his shoulders with a new sense of urgency and shakes him.Castiel sees Dean’s mouth moving, his eyes wide and frantic. His lips stop for a second and repeats the same thing.Why is he saying it now then? That he knows Castiel can’t hear it over the fireworks?When the fireworks suddenly fizzle out, Castiel doesn’t even notice the lack of noise until he can suddenly hear Dean’s voice, as clear as a bell.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 160





	Silent Explosion Of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year! to all my readers. I hope you enjoy this special =)

The night air is brisk, by human standards at least, but Castiel finds that he rather enjoys the feel of the evening air blowing across his face. It’s relaxing. As close to sleep or meditation as an angel can get. It reminds him of better days; when he could fly. When he didn’t need a ‘rusted metal death trap’ as Dean calls it, to get from place to place. He remembers Dean chastising him on a case for not brushing his hair, but he hadn’t sounded angry, more bewildered and amused. Teasing. He likes it when Dean teases him. It makes him feel as though he fits into their little group.

Castiel is lost in his thoughts – head in the clouds – that he almost misses the almost imperceptible vibrations of his phone.

“Cass where are you?” Dean yells into the speaker. The bunker is loud and raucous and Castiel wonders why.

“Dean!” he says urgently, “Are you under attack? Do you need me?” Without waiting for an answer, he slams his foot on the accelerator.

“We’re not under attack.” Dean gurgles. Castiel sighs with relief, easing his foot off the gas sligthly. “But I still need you.”

Now that… that – is peculiar. Dean needs him, yet they’re not under attack.

“Are you expecting trouble?” he wonders.

He lowers the music to better hear Dean. It really is noisy. Chaotic. He can make out bits and pieces of voices. Sam’s and others he can’t quite recognise.

“No. No trouble.” Dean assures. Castiel isn’t comforted. Dean is obviously well on his way to a nasty hang over in the morning. In fact, most people he’s seen today have been in various stages of intoxication. Peculiar indeed. “We’re having a p-ar-tay!” Dean yells into his ear.

“Oh.” He says, dejectedly. A party. And they hadn’t invited him. It’s to be expected he supposes. Dean probably wants to relax with his brother and his… friends. His real family. “I’ll leave you to it.” he whispers, wanting to get this conversation over with. Maybe, afterwards, he’ll follow the general population’s lead and become intoxicated himself. That sounds viable.

His finger rests on the ‘end call button’ when he hears Dean’s shout. “No! Cassss…” he laughs, “It’s not a party without my best friend.”

Gripping the phone tighter, he leans in marginally, as though it would help him get closer to Dean. “You’re sure.” He breathes, trying not to sound overly desperate.

“Ten thousand percent.” He assures.

“Then… then I’m on my way.” Cass assures.

“One last thing.” this time Dean’s voice is timid, which is unusual in a highly inebriated state. His tone encourages Castiel to listen closely, for any code or warning that Dean might try to encode. “Be there by midnight.”

Frowning, he wracks his mind for a clue but comes up blank. “I will.” He says slowly, still trying to discern the hidden meaning.

“Dude are you doing it? Are you telling him?” It’s Sam’s voice and by the sounds of it the brother’s are fighting for control of the phone.

“No. Now shut up before I make my new – new year’s resolution: shave Sam’s head.”

That brings a smile to his face. If they’re bickering, that means they must be okay.

“Cass!” Sam laughs even as Dean struggles in the background. “Make a revolution before you come.”

“A revolution?” he panics, fumbling with the wheel. “Sam there isn’t enough time to amass the numbers needed to-”

“Sorry.” Sam laughs again, but this time it’s dampened. “I meant resolution. This is my seventh margarita.”

Castiel could manage more than twelve, but, buy human standards, twelve is a lot.

“Tell Dean, I’ll see him soon Dean.” He says quietly, clicking the line off.

“Don’t forget the revolution!” Sam calls.

…

The drive over is laborious. The humans drive even more recklessly than usual, almost running him off the road a few times. Now, more than ever, he just wants to get back to the bunker.

He makes good time. Twenty minutes to midnight. He just hopes that he hasn’t missed the party. Well… the party and spending time with Dean. He misses their talks and the way Dean would listen to him so attentively. It feels like, lately, they’ve just gotten back into their groove. There’s so much to tell Dean – so much to learn from him. On the way over he saw and heard reports of a ball dropping in New York City; he wonders if that might be supernatural enough to warrant investigation.

Castiel doesn’t get a chance to ask Dean anything though as Dean stumbles into the front seat just as he’s parked, nearly dinging the door on the adjacent wall.

“I’m your Huckleberry.” Dean says in a deep voice. Castiel takes note of the beige cowboy hat and boots that Dean seems to flaunt, tipping his hat and resting his feet on the dash.

“Yes you are.” He assures his friend, resisting the urge to laugh at him. It occurs to Castiel that Dean is drunk enough, that at the moment, anything he says or hears could be attributed to … inebriation. “You are very aesthetically pleasing Dean.” He says softly.

Dean grins at him cheekily. “You’re not so bad yourself.” He slaps Castiel on the shoulder. “C’mon Cass. We’re missin’ the par-tay!”

He winces, as Dean navigates out of the car, narrowly avoiding tripping over his boots. Castiel gets out and rolls his eyes, but keeps a tight grip on Dean’s sleeve as they ascend the stairs.

…

The party – or par-tay – as Dean insists on calling him, is in full swing. It’s just like every party he’s ever read about. He sees Claire, Jody and Alex playing beer pong in a corner and Sam talking to a female he’s yet to meet. Other familiar faces roam the halls – mostly hunters and they all nod to him as they pass.

“Dean.” He says in quiet protest as the elder Winchester pushes a drink into his hands. “This will have no effect on me.”

“I want you buzzed, so drink up.”

Castiel cocks his head. Why does Dean want him buzzed. Dean seems to be sobering slowly, limiting his drinks and dousing them in ice. Maybe he wishes for company? Castiel shrugs. It doesn’t matter. This is a celebration. He knocks back two glasses of the amber liquid and grins at Dean who nods his encouragement.

“Atta boy Cass.”

Castiel drinks enough to kill a small human before he begins questioning his decision. He feels words that he might not usually say on the edge of his tongue.

‘Your lips look nice Dean.’

‘Can I touch your hair.’

‘Touch my hand again.’

Those are things that Dean can never hear. Those are the things he wishes he could tell Dean liberally, everyday.

This is dangerous territory. Now that he understands the significance of the new year, and resolutions – he still doesn’t have one – he wants to start it off right. And blurting out his heart’s desires and losing his best friend definitely isn’t right.

Sam and Dean are talking off to the side and he approaches slowly. Pieces of their conversation drift over, despite the kerfuffle.

“Say it _three_ times Dean.” Sam holds up three fingers to Dean’s face.

Knocking his hand away Dean scoffs, but his words are lost in the crowd.

“Because I think you’ll chicken – ” Sam’s sentence is also distorted. “ – your resolution Dean – make sure you stick to it.”

“Dean.” He tugs at his sleeve, hating himself for not having fun. He should be having fun, talking to Sam and Dean and all the other hunters but instead, he’s so worried about his slippery tongue that he can hardly think straight. Dean grin at him, and he feels even worse about his next words. “I need to leave the party.”

Dean smiles and Castiel stares on in confusion as he grabs his arm, practically tugging him outside. His heart plummets as he realises what this all means. Sure, Dean had taken a chance, and invited him to the party, but after seeing his horrible etiquette and deplorable social skills, he’s decided that the party is better off without Castiel. It’s true. But it still hurts.

“I’m sorry for ruining the party.”

Dean stops with his hand on the bunker door and looks back, giving him an unreadable look. He tugs once more, leading them both into the brisk air. Despite his poncho and hat, Dean still shudders in the cold. At this point, Castiel knows he should offer his coat, though he doubts that Dean would appreciate the gesture.

“You aren’t ruining the party.” Dean says, past his chattering teeth.

“But you brought me outside.” He observes, gesturing to the wooded area around them.

“Because you looked uncomfortable and – honestly? I don’t know a lot of those people, so I was too.”

“Oh.” So Dean hadn’t regretted inviting him.

“Out here is nicer. Quieter.” Dean smiles. “We can talk here and I’ll actually hear you.”

Snorting, Castiel’s eyes go wide, staring at Dean in shock. “You’re really tipsy.” Dean observes.

“This is your fault.” He mutters.

From somewhere beneath his poncho, Dean produces a folded red, yellow and white cloth. And gestures for Castiel to take a step back. In a sweeping motion, Dean shakes the cloth out, spreading it flat on the grass.

Positioning himself on his back, Dean pats the space next to him. Castiel removes his trench-coat and hesitantly lowers himself next to Dean. His hands are shaking and his eyes can’t seem to focus. This is the closest he’s ever been to sleeping next to Dean. He’s tense beyond belief, concentrating on keeping his appendages as far away from Dean as possible without arousing suspicion – or himself.

When Dean grabs his arm, Castiel almost jumps out of his skin. “Relax.” Dean’s voice is soothing. “This is the best spot.”

“Best for what?” he asks consciously trying to slacken his muscles.

Dean tilts his head to the side. “You’ll see.”

Castiel stares straight up trying to ignore the heat from Dean’s hand and the fact that he hadn’t moved it from his arm – and doesn’t seem to want to.

Gulping, he chances a quick look at Dean, who already has his head tilted towards Castiel. He’s shivering clearly now. Turning to his side, he grabs the coat and lays it across Dean’s chest. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Dean’s voice is soft. Green eyes entice him, drawing him into their never-ending web, as they usually do.

‘I love you.’

He rips himself away, carefully watching Dean’s face for any indication that he heard it out loud. Dean is no longer drunk enough that an admission so huge could be passed off as anything. But Dean’s face is calm, still staring back at him.

“Have you ever seen fireworks before.”

“Not up close.” He replies, exhaling in relief.

Dean smiles at him, almost proudly with a hint of nervousness. “I got some from town.” His hands fiddle under Castiel’s coat. “When – did you know that Sam and I once snuck away to light up some fireworks?”

“I didn’t.” he admits. “But it sounds nice.”

“It was great.” Dean’s eyes glaze over, his face relaxing as he loses himself in the memory. This is Castiel’s favourite part. Dean’s happiness is always his favourite, because he knows just how fleeting those moments are. So when he come, in his presence, he savours it; the look of peace on Dean’s face. He always looks lighter, like years of pain and guilt have suddenly vanished.

Castiel blinks and the look is gone. He sighs. The look always disappears. Dean’s eyes glitter as they stare back at him and his muscles sag, not with relaxation this time, but with fatigue.

“I’m sure Sam will appreciate your effort.” He says, wanting to salvage the moment.

“I know he will.” Dean points off to the side. “The hunters are there setting them up. They’ll go off at midnight. I bought enough for an entire three minutes.”

“And this is the best spot.” Castiel supplies.

“Yup.”

“I have to confess, Dean.” He gulps. “I haven’t decided on a resolution.”

Dean’s expression seems to shutter at that, and Castiel knows he’s made a mistake. “Two minutes to midnight.”

“What’s your resolution?” he asks, desperate for a way to redeem himself in Dean’s eyes.

Looking away, he hears Dean swallow. Against the stillness of the night, it’s as loud as an explosion.

“Dean?” he sits up then, trying to escape the stricken expression on Dean’s face. “Did – did I do something wrong?”

Dean shakes his head, but even though it’s pitch black, Castiel can see that his teeth are clenched.

What could he do? What sort of resolution should he make. He can… vow to work more cases? No Dean would consider that his duty anyway. Learning to cook? No, he can’t even eat. Weight is out. His breath comes out in condensation clouds, belaying his worry. Dean sits up then, laying a hand on his back.

“Hey. I’m sorry.” Dean says gently. “I didn’t mean to freak you… I’m just… in a mood.”

Sincerity greets him in Dean’s gaze and Castiel accepts his apology with a small smile.

With his arm still around Castiel’s shoulders he sighs, his breath ruffling Castiel’s hair just as the breeze he enjoys so much. “It can be anything you see yourself wanting to improve. Like… anything.” Dean says, rather _unhelpfully_.

Castiel glares and Dean seems to catch on. “Fine. You – you can make it about something in your work life or personal life – if you want to be all chick flick about it.”

“You like chick flicks.” He points out. “it can be about love then?” he murmurs. “I never realised that.”

“Yeah. Family love. Other – kinds of love.”

“I see.” But what he really sees is the blush painting Dean’s cheeks and the way his eyes dart to the clearing under which the hunters are supposed to ignite the fireworks.

“I – I believe I want to express my love to those who mean the most to me.”

Dean’s face is unreadable. “Good.”

They sit in silence and Castiel belatedly wonders who two minutes haven’t elapsed as yet. All of a sudden, Dean turns to him. “There’s this… human tradition.”

He cocks his head, listening closely. Dean had never seemed so… jumpy and distressed while explaining human traditions before. What could that be about.

“Dean?”

“We kiss at midnight!” Dean blurts, staring at him wide eyed.

Castiel has to look away to hide his desire. His hands fist the blanket and he fears, given the heat building inside him, that he might spontaneously combust. Schooling his face into a neutral expression he nods and says blithely, “Only if it is tradition.”

Dean nods solemnly, “Just for a few seconds.”

It must be a trick of the light, because Castiel swears that Dean’s expression falters as the first firework explodes in the sky, raining down burning embers. Castiel and Dean tear their eyes away from the display and back to each other.

The sound is deafening so they both remain silent as they close the distance between them. Superficially, it’s a mutual decision, but Castiel knows that he’s approaching Dean’s lips much faster than Dean’s lips are approaching his. It’s all too much – too overwhelming. The sounds, the explosion, the _proximity._ It’s like they’re moving in slow motion, in a dance that is doomed to never end. He can feel Dean’s breath on his lips, and in the flashes of light, he can discern the terror in Dean’s eyes.

So Castiel shuts his eyes and presses his lips together. Appreciating the intimacy that this brings. Dean’s hand is hot on his neck, just resting and guiding his head ever so slightly as his tongue pushes past Castiel’s lips. It’s surreal, like a dream. A perfect moment set adrift in a sea of sounds and light. All his senses are thoroughly engaged. Touch and taste most of all. The feel of Dean pressed against him and the taste of freedom. To be who he wants to be, not who Dean needs, to push his desires to the forefront. It feels liberating.

It feels like flying.

Dean is like the wind in his hair but a billion times better.

It’s a reason for falling.

He pushes his lips into Dean’s. Kissing him just as passionately, letting every moment last; if only because he sure that this is a once in a lifetime occurrence. He let’s every bit of pent up longing and love flow through their connection and he kisses Dean with everything he’s got and Castiel can feel himself and the wind beneath his wings.

All of a sudden, Dean rips his mouth away, his hair in disarray and his lips red and puffy. And it’s like time speeds up again as Dean grips his shoulders with a new sense of urgency and shakes him. The switch is jarring and Castiel is forced watches his friend panic and tremble in silence. He couldn’t comfort him over the booming of the fireworks even if he tried.

Castiel sees Dean’s mouth moving, his eyes wide and frantic. His lips stop for a second and repeats the same thing. He leans in closer, trying to read Dean’s lips but he can’t; it has never been a skill he’s needed while hunting and Castiel curses himself for his lack of knowledge. It’s too fast. He can’t discern any of it. But from the look on Dean’s face it’s monumentally important.

Why is he saying it now then? That he knows Castiel can’t hear it?

They say that once you listen to something for some time, it becomes a constant, like background noise. Which is why, when the fireworks suddenly fizzle out, Castiel doesn’t even notice the lack of noise until he can suddenly hear Dean’s voice, as clear as a bell.

“I’m in love with you Castiel.”

Dean doesn’t scream it. He says it at a normal volume; as though it is just another sentence in a conversation between friends. But the _way_ he said it. The intonation, the soft pleading at the end, the thin film of tears in his eyes. There’s no way Castiel misheard. There’s no way it can be anything other than what it is.

A silent explosion of love.

Any doubt is washed away as Dean completely freezes, clamping a hand over his mouth and staring up at the sky like it betrayed him.

This is a big thing. Castiel understands that. He knows how much a love confession can take out of a person. Dean just needs a minute to process his words. In reality, Castiel is just chickening out. He wants Dean to mean his words and he knows that he does; but at any second he can take them back. And Castiel isn’t prepared for that.

But Dean loves him. _Has_ loved him for some time now. That brings the biggest smile to his face.

“I thought you said the fireworks would last an entire three minutes.” Castiel says gently, letting Dean know that he can take his time.

Dean just gapes at him though, staring up again, slack jawed. “I did.” He whispers. Then glances down at his watch. “It’s four past twelve.”

“We must have kissed for more than a few seconds then.”

“Yeah.” Dean murmurs, glancing up at him shyly. “Are we okay?”

“No Dean.” He says, “We’re better than okay.”

Blowing out a breath Dean bites his lips, “Good. Good. I’m sorry about – that – I just – it’s okay that you don’t feel the same. I just don’t want to lose you.” The ending sounds like a plea.

Looking at the vulnerability in Dean’s eyes he suddenly recognise what Dean wanted him to do. He never thought that Dean of all people would be insecure about that; require confirmation.

“I figured out something about my new year’s resolution.” He says carefully, taking a few steps closer, invading Dean’s personal space.

Shoulders sagging, he sees Dean force a smile. “What is it?”

“My resolution is still the same.” He reaches up to cup Dean’s cheek. “I’m in love with you too.”

He feels Dean’s surprised gasp and the way his throat bobs up and down at his confession. Dean grips his hands and his waist squeezing tightly as though to assure himself that this _is_ real.

“I’ve always loved you Dean.”

Eyes watering Dean swallows a few times, overwhelmed with emotion. Even Castiel feels the magnitude of what they’ve confessed. He _finally_ feels like celebrating, because this is the one thing he’s ever wanted.

“Me too.” Dean gasps. “I want to kiss you again.”

“You never needed to ask.”

Then Dean’s lips are on his again, claiming them with a new urgency. Castiel feels the reverberations of his happiness throughout his entire grace. It remains tumultuous inside this vessel as it basks in the glory of love.

“I love you.” the words finally break free.

And his greatest fear, of them never being returned, is conquered with Dean’s promise. “I love


End file.
